


Courier Service

by smilebackwards



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bike Messenger, M/M, Oblivious, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 12:30:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilebackwards/pseuds/smilebackwards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He just needs to get to know me," Harvey insists to Donna after another brush off from Mike, who delivers a parcel to Jessica and then challenges Louis to a speed Sudoku match.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Courier Service

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](http://suitsmeme.livejournal.com/2038.html?thread=2218998#t2218998) prompt at LJ suitsmeme. Basically, Mike is Pearson Hardman's bike messenger and Harvey is intrigued.

"Louis," Mike says, striding past Harvey without a backwards glance and pulling up short in front of Louis, "If you can give me three Mersenne primes, I will give you these fantastic files from Goldman Incorporated, which I'm sure you will use to win a multi-million dollar lawsuit, thus making more money in the next four days than I make in the next four years."

"3, 7, 31. Don't insult me, Mike," Louis says, but he's doing something with his mouth that might pass for smiling as he takes the files and signs the clipboard Mike offers him.

"Well, I'm legally required to give you the files anyway," Mike laughs. "I had to make sure you'd get the answer right."

"You're a terrible messenger and if I knew who hired you, I would fire them," Louis says without conviction.

"But you wouldn't fire _me,_ " Mike points out cheekily.

"Only because I have two tickets to Hamlet this Saturday and everyone else I know is a philistine," Louis says.

Mike smiles and Harvey's heart flips in a way he will never admit. "We're still meeting at seven in front of the theater, right?" Mike asks Louis, beaming. "Man, I cannot wait to see Jude Law's portrayal of Hamlet. He's supposed to be amazing."

Louis nods. "Seven sharp," he says. "And if you wear jeans, I'm not walking in with you."

"Yeah, yeah," Mike says, rolling his eyes. He shifts his bike helmet under his arm and heads back toward the elevators. "Oh, sorry, Mr. Specter," he says, executing a twisting sidestep so he doesn't collide with Harvey when Harvey deliberately steps in his way, desperate for notice.

 _Mr. Specter,_ Harvey thinks, wincing.

To add insult to injury, Mike waves to Rachel in her office and she waves back cheerily. Then Mike gives Donna a fist-bump and disappears into the elevator.

"It's your own fault," Donna says unsympathetically when Harvey fetches up against her desk and stares forlornly at the closed elevator doors.

"The two of you are friends. Tell him I'm not a terrible person," Harvey begs.

"I think you firmly ensconced yourself in his mind as a terrible person back in January when he biked though a snowstorm to deliver you the Felton financials and you yelled at him for dripping in your office," Donna says.

Harvey winces. First impressions can be everything and he'd admittedly botched his first meeting with Mike disastrously. It had been a disgustingly gray Thursday morning, sleet-rain and sticky snow closing down transportation routes and blocking people in their homes. The office had been practically deserted except for Harvey who had stayed the night, napping on his couch between frantically searching through the Felton files for a loophole. He'd called over to Felton's office requesting the financials and been told to look out the window before he was laughed off the line, but when he'd called down to Sandra, who'd been working in the mail room since Harvey himself started there, she told him she'd get someone on it right away.

Mike arrived, files in hand, an hour later and Harvey probably would have kissed him except when he handed over the paperwork, a chunk of snow slipped off his sleeve and onto the papers, blurring what might have been essential information. 

Harvey had had two hours of sleep, no coffee and a rapidly diminishing timeframe to find an out for his client. He'd snapped. He doesn't remember exactly what he said because he was half out of his mind with stress and sleep deprivation, but it involved the phrases "incompetent moron" and "you're so fired when I tell...someone about this."

Mike had stood there, snow melting on the shoulders of his too-thin coat, lips blue, and taken it. After Harvey wound down, he'd actually looked up to see who he was yelling at and noticed all of those things, as well as the fact that Mike was gorgeous, even half-frozen. He'd wanted to backtrack, sit Mike down on the leather couch and chafe his gloveless fingers until circulation returned, but it was too late.

"I apologize, Mr. Specter," Mike had said, coldly polite. "I'll get out of your way," and he'd marched straight out of Harvey's office, leaving Harvey open-mouthed, with one hand outstretched like he could grab Mike and pull him back.

\--

"Have you ever thought that Mike might be a corporate spy?" Harvey asks Jessica when she comes to check up on his progress with the Hans-Welderman deal.

"He's a bike messenger, Harvey, not a spy," Jessica says, long-sufferingly. 

"I'm just saying," Harvey says, "anyone who's that friendly with Louis must be after something."

"Mike is not a spy," Jessica repeats. "And Louis is not the Antichrist. They both enjoy math and Shakespeare. It's not so far out of the realm of possibility that they bonded over shared interests."

"But you'll notice that Mike is an adorable blue-eyed ingénue and not some schlubby everyman on the wrong side of forty," Harvey says, handing over the Hans-Welderman files.

"Is that what this is about?" Jessica asks, scanning the top pages and then giving Harvey a sardonic quirk of the lips. "You have a crush on Mike and you're upset that he has a better rapport with Louis than with you?"

"Yes," Donna's voice says over the intercom.

"You really never shut that off do you?" Jessica says. "Donna could probably break this company. You should give her a raise."

"Thank you, Ms. Pearson," Donna says.

"You're welcome, Donna," Jessica says, neatening the files and tucking them under her arm. She levels Harvey with a look. "And Harvey, either ask the kid out or get over yourself. Clear?"

"Yes," Harvey sulks.

\--

"He just needs to get to know me," Harvey insists to Donna after another brush off from Mike, who delivers a parcel to Jessica and then challenges Louis to a speed Sudoku match. 

Louis rips out two pages from the Sudoku book he apparently keeps in the top drawer of his desk and grabs one of the new associates by the collar of his suit jacket as he's walking past. "Peon," Louis says, "stop whatever sub-par work you're doing and turn on the stopwatch setting on your watch." 

He hands Mike a pen and they sit elbow to elbow in one of the empty cubicles. Harvey tries to loiter unobtrusively. 

"Go," Louis says.

He and Mike start filling in boxes immediately. Harvey can practically see numbers flashing behind their eyes. It's like watching human calculators. Louis and Mike throw down their pens almost simultaneously. "One minute and fifty-five seconds," the associate says.

"Seriously, why the hell are you a bike messenger?" Louis asks Mike. 

"I got kicked out of college for selling math tests, not failing them," Mike says. For once his ever-present smile looks brittle, but he disappears toward the elevator before anyone can pry further.

\--

On Thursday, Harvey develops a brilliant plan. 

"I need Mike to deliver me the court transcripts from last Wednesday, ASAP," Harvey tells Donna.

Donna looks unimpressed. "You closed that case two days ago. You don't need those transcripts."

"I have a plan," Harvey says.

Donna nods. "To win Mike's affection by slowly but surely acclimatizing him to you when you're not being a jerk." 

"Well, essentially, yes," Harvey says. He sometimes wonders if Donna isn't some sort of psychologist/anthropologist who's embedded herself in Pearson Hardman to secretly study the workings of lawyers in their natural environment and later write a book about it. He has the feeling he would not come off well.

"You realize that you're basically giving him extra work for no reason?" Donna points out. "Also, sustained exposure could just make him hate you more." Harvey gives her a deeply suspicious look. Donna rolls her eyes, "I get paid to deal with you fifty hours a week, occasional stroppy tantrums included. Mike does not."

"He is _going_ to like me," Harvey says, undeterred.

Donna doesn't seem convinced, but she calls down to the mail room so someone can pass Harvey's request on to Mike.

Half an hour later, Mike arrives. Harvey straightens his tie and tries to look like he's actually working. 

Over the perpetually open intercom, Harvey can hear Mike begging Donna to just let him leave the files with her. "He wants you to take them straight back to him," Donna says, sounding a hundred times more sympathetic to Mike's plight than she did to Harvey's.

"He's going to eat me alive and you're going to spend the rest of your life knowing you could have prevented it," Mike tells Donna fatalistically.

A hollow knock echoes against the glass door of Harvey's office and he turns his head, affecting surprise and waving Mike in. Mike acts like he's walking into a minefield, the expression on his face halfway between panicky and resolute.

"The court transcripts?" Harvey says calmly, hand extended to take them.

"Yes," Mike says, opening his battered messenger bag and passing Harvey a thin manila folder. 

Harvey signs the receipt stuck to the folder and hands it back. "Thank you, Mike," he says.

Mike gives him a weird look, like Harvey is acting completely out of character. Then he says, "You're welcome, Mr. Specter," and flees. 

\--

The next day, Harvey calls down for Mike to bring him a stack of entirely unnecessary paperwork for the Klein case.

Mike spends only two minutes trying to convince Donna to take the paperwork in to Harvey for him. It's practically perfunctory, Harvey thinks, smiling. His plan is totally working.

\--

Six sets of extraneous files, three boxes of briefs, and a potted plant later, Mike finally calls Harvey by his first name instead of a stilted Mr. Specter. Harvey celebrates by decimating Peter Bryant in open court and making a lying witness cry.

Unfortunately, his office has also started to look like the file room and apparently other people actually need some of the files if Louis' bitching is to be believed, which Harvey thinks, on principle, it's not.

"What are you doing with Mike?" Louis demands when he manages to slip past Donna during the three minute bathroom break she takes every six hours and corners Harvey on the pretense that he needs the Haversham settlement files.

"I'm not doing anything with Mike," Harvey says, which, now that he thinks about it, is sad because it's actually true. "He's doing his job and delivering files to me."

Louis scoffs. "Right, you're not exploiting him at all," he says. "And why exactly did you need him to bring you that ficus?" He jabs a finger at the plant in the corner like it's Exhibit A in a murder trial.

"It's improving the feng shui of my office," Harvey says. 

"Fine, Harvey," Louis says, sneering. "Just know, I'm watching you." He points his fingers at his eyes, then at Harvey, then back at his eyes before snatching the Haversham files off Harvey's desk and storming out.

"That was the least intimidating thing I've ever seen," Donna says, back from her break and having watched the tail end of Harvey and Louis' tête à tête over the rim of her coffee cup. "And yet I'd suggest you do whatever he said just to avoid the awkwardness of him doing it a second time."

"He wants me to stay away from Mike," Harvey says. 

"Ah," Donna says, lips pursed. "And what is your response?"

"Tell Mike I need files from the Smith case," Harvey instructs. "Surely we've represented someone named Smith."

\--

Mike brings files from a wrongful termination suit against Aaron J. Smith, a set of divorce proceedings between Helen and Theodore Smith, and a preliminary patent filing for some kind of space age jetpack submitted through the firm by a Ralph Smith.

"You weren't very specific," Mike says, holding out the files and looking wary, like he expects Harvey to start yelling any second. "These are all the Smith cases from the last two months. If you wanted something older, I can go back and find it for you."

"Okay, seriously," Harvey says, dumping the files carelessly on his desk, "What did I say to you that day we first met? I remember calling you incompetent and threatening to fire you, but it must have been even worse if you're still this skittish around me."

"Well," Mike says, "You also called me an empty-souled messengerbot and cussed me out in Latin. I probably would have been impressed, but I'd just ridden my bike through Snowmaggedon to give you those files and I hated you with every frozen fiber of my being."

Harvey winces. "Okay, a little harsh," he says. "But you know I was sleep deprived and under extreme amounts of pressure and I'm sorry."

"We're fine now, Harvey," Mike says, reassuring.

"But you still like Louis better than me, don't you?" Harvey complains.

Mike looks taken aback. "Um, I don't really rank my friendships with people here," he says.

"I do," Harvey says. Louis, amazingly, agonizingly, _intolerably,_ ranks first in Mike's affections at Pearson Hardman, followed closely by Donna, then Rachel, then some smarmy post-grad down in IT named Benjamin. Harvey clocks in at fifth. "And I can tell you still like Louis better than me. It's against the natural order of things. Just tell me, what do I have to do for you to like me better than him?"

Mike puts a hand on Harvey's shoulder. "Well, Harvey," he says, "You could start by not saying shit like that." He pats Harvey's shoulder once and then walks out the door, turning left in the direction of Louis' office.

"Wow," Donna says, over the intercom. "Not doing yourself any favors here."

Harvey puts his head down on his desk.

\--

Mike is pleasant but cool to Harvey over the next few days. Harvey can't stand it. He knows what Mike wants is for him to make peace with Louis because on the third day he'd cracked and straight up asked, one hand on Mike's shoulder, the other halfway to his checkbook, "What do you want? Seriously, I'll give you anything."

"I want you and Louis to be civil to each other," Mike said, dropping a dusty file box on Kyle's desk and brushing Harvey's hand off his arm.

Harvey's honestly considering it, but not before exhausting all other options.

"I could buy him a car," Harvey says to Donna, throwing out ideas. 

"How can you be this bad at this?" Donna asks him. "Offering him a bribe would be almost as offensive as you drowning a sack of kittens right in front of him."

"Oh God, is he a cat person?" Harvey asks. If it were anyone but Mike, he'd probably consider that a deal breaker. 

"Harvey," Donna says, her voice full of exaggerated patience as her hands pull half a dozen uncapped Bic pens out of their organizer and line them up like she's ready to start throwing them at him as darts, "suck it up and go make nice with Louis."

\--

Harvey suffers through three more days of Mike's frowning arctic courtesy before capitulating.

"How was your weekend?" Harvey says, stiffly, when Monday morning rolls around and finds him waiting awkwardly in Louis' office. 

"What?" Louis says, unslinging his pretentious briefcase/messenger bag hybrid from his shoulder and readjusting the picture frame Harvey has been poking at listlessly. "Oh, wait, I get it. My weekend was great but yours was better because you spent it screwing my wife. It's funny because I don't have a wife."

"No," Harvey says, "I'm fully prepared to admit that your weekend was better than mine. I'll sign an affidavit. Did you get a chance to see Much Ado About Nothing? I heard it's playing on Broadway this week." 

"What's going on?" Louis asks suspiciously.

"Nothing," Harvey lies. "I just thought maybe we could get past this animosity between us. Bury the hatchet. Be civil." 

Louis squints at Harvey like he's the 6pt font at the bottom of a shady looking contract. "Seriously, what are you doing?"

"Mike hates me," Harvey admits.

"I know," Louis says. "It's pretty much the only thing going well in my life right now." 

"I don't _want_ Mike to hate me," Harvey says. He winces when he hears the plaintive note in his voice. It's practically an invitation for Louis to screw him over on the negotiations. Regrouping, Harvey says, carefully flat, "His ultimatum for our continued friendship is that you and I establish a basis of mutual respect and civility."

"Is there some kind of offer forthcoming or can I get on with some actual work?" Loius says, feigning indifference. "Mike didn't place any restrictions on his friendship with _me._ "

"I'll give you the Barristan account," Harvey says. Louis gapes at him for a moment before hiding his surprise behind a seasoned poker face. Harvey racks up hundreds of billable hours off Barristan every year and most of them happen during exclusive rooftop parties full of champagne and models. "Deal?" Harvey asks, hand stretched up into the empty air between them.

"And I want your parking space," Louis says. 

Harvey's hand trembles slightly. He has Ray and the car service so he doesn't actually _use_ his private company parking space per se, but he likes to know that it's there, taunting Louis and the other junior partners who have to drive three floors up and then take a harrowing flight of back stairs because of truly poor city planning. "Fine," Harvey says through gritted teeth, an image of Mike's downturned mouth solid in his mind.

"Deal," Louis says, grabbing Harvey's hand. "But don't think I'm not still keeping tabs on your interactions with Mike."

"Whatever," Harvey says.

\--

Making nice with Louis is painful to Harvey’s very soul. 

The way Mike warms to him, lets Harvey order in lunch for them and will quote any basketball stat listed in the _Sports Illustrated Almanac,_ would probably be enough to ease the sting if it didn’t perpetually remind Harvey of how much more he wants.

Mike remains distressingly oblivious to the increasingly obvious and desperate social cues Donna assures Harvey he is indeed sending out. “Harvey, it’s sad watching you,” she says, not sounding sad at all. “For the love of God, please just be direct. Mike is clearly never going to figure it out based on body language and lunch dates that he’s obviously miscategorized as platonic.”

Harvey doesn’t concede gracefully, but after ordering Rizzoli’s famous pan lasagna to split and guiding Mike out of his office with a hand at the small of his back produces only a shoulder pat, a “See you tomorrow,” and Donna very loudly saying nothing, he makes a call.

\--

"Hey, Harvey," Mike says, setting a vase of orchids down on Harvey's desk. "These are for you, from you. Did you order them for yourself as some kind of celebratory gesture or are they for someone else in the office?"

"They're for you," Harvey says.

Mike blinks. He pauses and waits for the other shoe to drop and then realizes that is already has. “Um, thank you?” Mike says, squinting at the flowers and then Harvey and back again. “Except, no, wait,” Mike says, realization finally dawning. "I know you wanted me to like you, but you want me to _like you_ like you?"

Harvey uncaps his Waterman pen and signs for the flowers. “Yes,” he says, putting the vase back into Mike’s arms. Mike looks ridiculously and adorably wide-eye stunned, so Harvey adds, “I’ll give you some time to consider.”

\--

The next day, Harvey gets back from meeting with a client who had the bright idea to launder money for the Russian mafia and half the office is indiscreetly circling Donna’s desk like it’s the new water cooler. Harvey follows their shifty eyes. Mike is in his office, dressed in blue jeans and a tee shirt, hands thumbing through Harvey’s record collection. “I don’t remember ordering anything by courier today,” Harvey says.

Donna rolls her eyes. “He’s not here to deliver a package. He came to see you.” She reaches into her desk drawer to pull out a wad of bills and hands it to Louis. He takes it with a grimace. The associates groan and trickle back to their tiny, hellish cubicles.

Harvey silently conveys that Louis will tell him what’s going on _immediately._ “Mike makes supremely bad choices,” Louis explains, vaguely. “I said he’d succumb after a month.”

Harvey turns to Donna. “Every single person on this floor, and about twenty people from other departments, bet on how long it would take you to start dating Mike,” she informs him.

“Lovely,” Harvey says. “But don’t go counting your chickens before they’re hatched.” He plucks the money out of Louis’ hands and gives it back to Donna before pushing open the door to his office. 

Mike turns immediately. “So,” Harvey says. “Dinner tonight?”

“Yeah,” Mike says, smiling. “Sounds good.”

All right, Harvey decides, seeing Louis’ fist close around the cash Donna hands back to him. Just this once, they can both win. As long as Harvey’s victory is a thousand times sweeter.


End file.
